


Last Day

by ostentatiouslyrealistic



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 07:03:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9645545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ostentatiouslyrealistic/pseuds/ostentatiouslyrealistic
Summary: Night, memory, day.





	

**Author's Note:**

> My first time working with Bokuaka!

"Hey, 'kaashi?" Bokuto sighs, and Akaashi feels his heart clench at how feeble he sounds. His hands seek out Bokuto's, fingers slotting between his, letting his ace know that he's there next to him. He gives a light squeeze, and Bokuto lets out a soft breath.

"Can you stay with me tonight?" The feelings coursing through his veins are torrential, so cold and icy as they numb his emotions. He can feel his eyes blinking rapidly. Something hot and wet slides down his cold cheeks, and the contrast feels like rivulets of fire rather than tears. A small twitch against his neck has him struggling to keep from shuddering as Bokuto buries his head under Akaashi's chin.

"Of course." He doesn't mean to sound so broken—it just slipped out, words cracking, voice shaking. The breaths against his skin are deep. Sometimes they shudder, and Akaashi knows it's from fear—he knows because he mirrors the trepidation. His fingers tighten their hold on Bokuto, and he feels him return the squeeze.

"Thank you." At that, his lover's breathing slows, deepening as he falls into slumber. Akaashi sits still, ignoring how the bed frame digs into his back and how stiff the hospital bed feels underneath him. But Bokuto is warm against him, his body still blazing despite how frail he's become. Akaashi remembers how fresh faced the ace was at his prime, lean and strong from putting so much effort into volleyball. And yet—yet here he is now, withered away, a shadow of his former glory.

The rhythmic breathing against his neck and the heat that permeates his clothing is enough to lull him to sleep. Even though he doesn't want to, even though he wants to spend the rest of his time consciously curled up against Bokuto, his breathing slows and he's pulled under into depths of his mind.

_"Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease."_

_"What?" That can't be right. Akaashi thought he heard the word 'disease'. Bokuto turns away, eyes never leaving the ground as his foot scuffs at the dirt._

_"I thought you only sprained your ankle. How did go from that to this?"_

_Bokuto shrugs. His silence is unnerving, and Akaashi feels a foreboding deep in his gut._

_"How bad? How bad is the severity?" His voice shakes with effort to stay collected. Bokuto doesn't look up._

_"It's pretty bad." The answer isn't enough, and Akaashi snaps, "Tell me."_

_"Six months—that's how long I have." The ringing in his ears seems to intensify by tenfold, and he feels the world fade. It's ironic how the world crumbling around him occurs in silence. "What—what will happen?" He doesn't know why he's asking. Maybe he really is a masochistic ass. Bokuto flinches._

_"Psychological stuff, like depression, anxiety, and all that. I'll also start having problems talking and moving. They  told me I might lose my memory as well." Akaashi nods robotically. Each word punctures his sanity, and he leans heavily against the wall to keep from collapsing._

_The silence that hangs between them is heavy, lathering the air with melancholy. Akaashi feels something break within him, and he lets out a shuddering breath. It's loud enough that Bokuto winces, stepping forward, a hand held out in offering. Akaashi shakes his head, and he quickly retreats._

_It's hard for him to process the news. Bokuto, with his loud 'hey, hey, hey!'s and enthusiasm for volleyball, had always seemed so invincible. Akaashi was sure he'd one day see him as an undefeated pro-athlete, wearing Japan's national uniform as he spikes past other top champions from various countries. But now, the image has been shattered, cruelly torn from him, as he's bitterly reminded that Bokuto is still human, a teenage boy with large dreams splintered the moment he heard he only has half a year to live._

_"Akaashi." The sound of his name prompts him to lift his head, and his eyes meet Bokuto's brilliant golden eyes. "I can't do much, but I promise I won't forget you."_

_Akaashi lets out a large, shaking breath and buries his face in his hands, composure crumbling. What is this? Bokuto's the one with the unforgiving disease, and yet, here he is, trying to comfort Akaashi as he feels the dam within him break, releasing a flood of emotions, prominently grief. A hand curls around his shoulder, and he allows himself to be pulled into Bokuto's embrace._

_They spend the rest of the break like that, and for the first time in their high school career, they skip practice._

He awakens to the sunlight that's filtering through the blinds, and Bokuto's hand is limp, encased in Akaashi's slightly larger hands. There's no rhythmic breathing against his neck, no pulse that resonates from Bokuto's wrist, no 'hey, hey, hey's to ever greet Akaashi again.

He takes a shuddering breath, and one hand reaches up to brush the white streaked hair away from Bokuto's forehead. He leans down and presses his lips against his temple, moving to press another kiss against his eyebrows and his nose. Finally, he lifts Bokuto's hand and allows his lips to linger on the palm.

"I love you, Koutarou," he whispers, and in his mind, he can see Bokuto's blinding smile, the one that causes his eyes to scrunch up into little half moons and is fully capable of lighting up a darkened room, the one that he can now only see in photos and live through his memories.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear Bokuto's enthusiastic reply.

_"I love you too, Keiji!"_

**Author's Note:**

> And I made it an angst.


End file.
